Walking Dead 1. Chapter 1

This is my first time writing a fanfic, but I thought it might be a bit of fun (well in a pretty morbid way). After the whole Rick waking up and breathing all loud and creepy and Carl thinking he had turned, I thought it would be interesting to think about what would have happened if Rick really did die. I'm planning on Daryl finding Carl in the next chapter because I really just want this to be about how Daryl would deal with it if this happened and he found Carl alone after they had all been separated. Anyway let's get on with it. It's pretty rough because I wrote it quickly, but I might improve it later. (I do not own 'the walking dead' or any of the characters in this fanfic)

Carl shot him. His dad had woken up, that was his first, stupidly naive thought. But he hadn't woken up. He had turned.

'People are going to die. I'm going to die...mom...there's no way you could ever be ready for it.'

His dad was right. He would never be ready. He had seen his dad stretching towards him, his eyes hollow and yellowed, and with his father's own gun in his hand, he had thought that he couldn't do it.

But then his dad was grabbing his leg, his teeth inching closer, only he wasn't Rick anymore and Carl could either kill him or be killed by him.

He told himself one last time that he wasn't a kid anymore as he shot his dad straight through the head.

Of course although the whole scene took only a minute, from Rick's resurrection to his second death, Carl would play it over in his mind thousands of times. Remembering the sick feeling in his stomach, in his whole body. Remembering how his blood had felt ten times thicker as it had pounded against his head and against his skin, how in that moment he had felt so small, and he would remember how sick it was that in that moment when he finally realised that his father was gone, he also realised that he needed him. He really needed him.

Recently Carl had changed so much. He was bigger and stronger and he wasn't scared anymore. He hadn't been scared of anything, not really scared, like he used to be. He had really thought that he could have survived on his own if he had to. But he felt so helpless, as his dad's lifeless body lay in from of him, in that silent suburban living room.

That feeling was even more amplified as he walked along the dirt track now out of that seemingly haunted town. He felt like he was ten years old again, as his whole body trembled. Physically he was unhurt, but he had never felt to weak. He practically stumbled along, trying to keep his steps as light as possible, so as not to attract walkers.

Luckily this road was empty. If he had been capable of thinking about anything other than his dad at this moment, he would have been relieved. He could probably barely fight off one walker in the state that he was in.

He had to kill only a couple as he walked on for what felt like hours. His body was screaming for rest, but he couldn't stop. He was afraid of stopping. He had no plan. Not yet. He could only keep moving.


	2. Chapter 2

Carl had been walking for at least an hour when he saw the figure heading towards him. The boy was definitely in shock. His exhausted legs were barely keeping him moving, but his back was straight and his body had stopped shaking. Instead it just felt cold. His eyes were fixed straight ahead, other than the occasional glance around in search of walkers.

His mind was blank. He'd quickly slipped into this state after his thoughts had become too much to bare. He was only aware of a dull ache in his gut, which warned him that this period of calm would eventually end.

And it did end. It ended as soon as he saw the figure. At first he had thought it was another walker. It was on the road heading towards him and it came into his line of sight as it rounded a corner. It was only 50 yards away but Carl was in no place to be noticing details. The figure did catch his attention though and it roused him somewhat from his semi-conscious state. For a few moments he thought that he wouldn't fight it. He thought that this was how he would die. The walker would kill him. But simultaneously, the figure got closer and Carl's brain began to snap back to life.

Daryl was in pretty good shape. He had been alone since the fight at the prison. When everything went down, he had wanted to make sure everyone was safe but he'd seen the bus leave and he had seen that it wasn't safe to stay in the prison for a minute longer, as the walkers were descending in. For the last few days he had been walking a wide perimeter around the prison. He knew many people had become separated like he had and he felt that it was his duty to try to find them. Daryl felt that he could survive alone but he wasn't so sure about some of the others. If he was really honest with himself he also knew that he didn't really want to be alone anymore. Even after all the time he had spent with the group, in the first camp, at the farm and in the prison, he still wasn't much of a people person. He wasn't good at emotional stuff, and he wasn't much for talking in any circumstance, unless it was business talk, planning supply runs and that kind of stuff. However he realised now that he felt safer in a group and even without talking, he had started to feel connected to many of the people he had shared the prison with.

That's why he was still sticking close. He would give it another day and then he would leave. If he didn't find anyone soon he would have to move on. He may have been changed by Rick and Carol and the others, but he wasn't a fool, survival would always come first and survival meant not getting too attached to anything or anyone.

It was coming up to six now, and the sky was beginning to darken. He was heading towards some houses that he had spotted from higher ground earlier and he was planning to clear one and set up camp there for the night.

He was on high alert as he headed down the long road. There weren't many walkers around, but he was looking for people too. He was looking for any trail which could show him the direction in which his friends had fled.

When he rounded that corner and saw that Stetson hat in the distance, he felt relief like he hadn't felt in a very long time. It was Carl. Carl was alive. He had found someone and they were okay. He was glad it was Carl too. Rick, Carol, Carl and Glenn were the people he cared the most about. They seemed to be the four strongest people in the group.

He had been walking with his cross bow at the ready but he swung it onto his back and quickened his stride towards Carl.

Carl was looking directly at him but he didn't seem to recognise Daryl. As Daryl got closer he suddenly remembered the last time he had seen Carl. It was just before the bus left and Carl was with his father, heading to the courtyard. It suddenly clicked that Rick should have been with Carl. Daryl was only metres from Carl now and as he took in the boy's appearance he began to fear the worst.

Carl had finally seen Daryl but he didn't look shocked or relieved. His eyes were becoming less cloudy and though they were dry, the pain was gradually filtering into them. They both came to a stop when only a meter remained between them and Daryl surveyed the boy for any sign of injury. He didn't look injured but his muscles were rigid and as Daryl looked back to eyes again, the growing pain in them rendered him speechless for a moment.

He had to ask. 'Where's your dad?' His voice was low and quiet.

Carl was coming back to reality. The aching was back, but worse. It was everywhere and his chest was tightening. As he looked up at Daryl he pulled together the last of his strength.

'He's dead.' His voice was surprising strong and clear 'The governor hurt him too bad. . He passed out. . And he turned this morning. . I shot him.'

He didn't want to break, but suddenly the weight of his own words were becoming too much. His legs were getting weaker and he felt like a clamp was tightening around his chest.

Daryl's chest tightened too. But he couldn't think of his own pain yet. His focus was fully on Carl. That boy had become so strong that Daryl had started to forget his age. Only now Carl sounded too old for his years. He was just a boy who had just lost his dad.

Daryl didn't even think as he took a last step forward and pulled the boy into his arms. In the moment that his head reached Daryl's chest Carl couldn't contain his pain any longer and a cry ripped through his chest. Daryl's arms tightened around the boy's shoulders, as Carl began to sob against his chest.

Daryl had never heard sobbing like this. He had held Carol when she had seen Sofia coming out from the barn, but somehow this was even more poignant to him. There was an added edge to Carl's cry. The boy was so scared, so small in this moment. His breathing was quick and panicked and his whole body was starting to shake again. His pain was even more unbearable to watch, because he was only a child, and right now he was scared like only a child could be.

After a few moments Daryl became aware of the noise they were making and the danger it would present. Carl's legs were buckling so Daryl let him slide to the ground and kneeled in front of him with his arms still wrapped around the boy's shoulders and Carl's head still against his chest.

'Carl, it's okay. . It's okay' His voice was low and gruff and there was a confidence, a strength in it, which echoed Rick just enough to calm Carl slightly.

The boy's sobs slowly quietened down and Daryl looked down at him. His eyes were squeezed shut and his muscles were still quivering so Daryl let Carl stay where he was. He didn't want let go of him yet anyway. He knew Carl needed some time to build up the strength to stand again and he wanted to give him time to recover.

So they stayed there. Daryl sat up on his knees and rested his chin on the top of Rick's hat as Carl slowly pulled himself back together.


End file.

Walking Dead, Angst, Hurt-Comfort